


Music to my ears

by youarekillianmehugh



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 02:47:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4330881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youarekillianmehugh/pseuds/youarekillianmehugh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay omg but like courferre plays the cello and courf is in band (idk what au this is maybe high school?) and combeferre practices in the practice rooms a lot and sometimes courfeyrac just sits in the hallway against the wall and listens and it's really beautiful and he really loves it and like they're acquaintances and stuff but courf starts getting this huge crush on him~anon</p><p>umm...so this is a rough draft so its a bit choppy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music to my ears

Courfeyrac and Combeferre had only met a handful of times through their mutual friend Feuilly, and Combeferre was a grade older than Courfeyrac, so they didn’t have much interaction. Courfeyrac liked to take walks through the hallways to clear his mind after rehearsals, and he always walked by the music room.  
Today was different. There was a soft, smooth sound coming from the room and it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever heard. He sat down, and leaned his head back against one of the lockers and just listened. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, a small smile on his face.  
After a while, the music stopped, and Courfeyrac broke out of his trance. He figured he should leave quickly because he didn’t feel the need to explain why he was sitting outside the practice room at 7pm at night.  
Combeferre practiced daily in that music room with his chello. He made sure that everything he learned was perfect down to the t. His hands were calloused beyond belief, but fingers nimble and long. He played his instrument so much that he needed to replace his bow and strings at least once a month. He found that playing after school in the practice room insured less interruptions from family members and students.  
Every day after practice, Courfeyrac would run to the music room to see if the mysterious cello player was practicing again. Always. He had memorized the time schedule by then and knew when to book it.  
One day, he was so exhausted from rehearsal, that he passed out in front of the music room. Combeferre came out of the room and paused as he saw the sleeping actor. He looked around, wondering if he should wake him up, since he probably shouldn’t leave the boy to sleep there overnight. He shook his shoulder gently, placing his instrument down and crouching on his knees.  
Courfeyrac awoke with a snort, causing the other boy to fall backwards in surprise on his rear.  
“Wha?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and looking around blearily.  
“Courfeyrac?” Combeferre asked, getting up from his spot and offering his hand.  
“Hmm?” Courfeyrac yawned and grabbed the other boy’s hand before stretching as he stood up. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the older boy in front of him.  
“Combeferre, right?” he asked, Ferre nodded. “What are you doing here at-“ he looked at his watch “7pm?”  
“I was going to ask you the same question “ Combeferre chuckled.  
“Rehearsal”  
Combeferre just pointed at his cello bag. Courfeyrac nodded, then a few seconds later his eyes grew wide and his cheeks tinted pink.  
“Oh”  
“Do you need a ride home?” Combeferre asked. Courfeyrac shook his head, suddenly nervous.  
“I’m good-just-I live literally next to the school so yeah” silence. “WellIgottagonicetoseeyouthankyouforwakingmeupbye!” he got out before running in the opposite direction. A few seconds later, he ran back “wrong way” he muttered.  
Combeferre stood there confused for a moment, before looking down and spotting a phone. Courfeyrac must have dropped it on his way out. Maybe Combeferre could drop it off before he left. He hopped in his car, and found the number that said ‘home’. After a few rings, he got an answer  
“Hello! De Courfeyrac residence, Antony speaking!” a chipper voice answered.  
“Um, hello, my name is Combeferre. Could I speak to Courfeyrac?”  
“Hello Combeferre! Its me! How did you get this number?”  
“Your phone-um-you left your phone when you left” he heard a soft ‘shit’ on the other end of the line before the voice answered.  
“y-You can just drop it off here! It’s the first green house you see when you leave the parking lot.”  
“Alright, see you then!”  
“Thank you!”  
Combeferre hung up and drove to the green house. He saw Courfeyrac standing in front.  
“Thanks” he smiled as he took the phone. He had walked up to the car so Combeferre didn’t need to get out.  
“See you tomorrow?” Courfeyrac nodded.  
“See you!” Courfeyrac waved as Combeferre sped off. As soon as the car was out of eyesight, Courfeyrac swooned. He had never thought of Combeferre that way, but he had definitely acknowledged his handsomeness. He was quite a looker, rocking the ‘hot professor’ look with glasses that magnified his eyes. He had had one of those ‘got hot over the summer’ before his senior year and Courfeyrac couldn’t complain. He had began to crush on the faceless person who played such beautiful music as he listened to it. When he finally connected the face to the sound he knew he was too far gone to get out now.  
Courfeyrac managed to speak to Combeferre during the day more, even if it was a small ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’. He came to look forward to this part of the day when he could just sit down and listen to the music, or see Combeferre smile.  
Courfeyrac was sitting outside of the studio, waiting for the music to start, when Combeferre came up, cello in hand. He gave Courfeyrac a surprised look.  
“Courfeyrac” Courfeyrac scrambled up, looking sheepish and holding his backpack close.  
“Hey”  
“Did they cancel rehearsal?” Combeferre asked, concerned. Of course he was concerned, he’s so sweet and nice and-  
“We ended early”  
“And the reason you’re here? I don’t mean to pry.”  
Courfeyrac took a deep breath and looked up to meet the other boy’s eyes.  
“To listen to you” he let himself smile, even if it was a small one.  
“You listen to me practice?-“  
“I’m sorry I realize it sounds soooo creepy but you’re REALLY good and-“  
Combeferre smiled.  
“You think I’m good?” he asked, cutting off Courfeyrac’s rambling.  
“Well if I’ve been sitting outside here for the last month listening to you practice I would say so” Courfeyrac babbled.  
“Would you-would you like to-?” Combeferre made a gesture toward the door of the practice room.  
“I mean, I could always use feedback and its always nice to hear people like it-“  
“Yes” Courfeyrac’’s grin spread wider as his cheeks turned pink and he rocked on his heels.  
“Great” Combeferre opened the door and led Courfeyrac inside.  
“Could you possibly get the lights, please?” he asked. Courfeyrac switched on the lights. “Thanks”  
“So this is where the magic happens” he mused. “Cozy”  
“Its great for thinking space. I’ve been trying to write my own music but I can’t seem to figure out a certain part of the song.” Courfeyrac hopped onto one of the desks.  
“Maybe I could help?” he offered. Combeferre looked up. “I play a little piano and I sing a little bit since I’m the lead in the musical and yeah if you need help”  
“That would be great, actually” he pulled his instrument out. After his warm up, he started to play, and if Courfeyrac had thought the music was lovely before, the sight in front of him was breathtaking. Combeferre’s arms graceful, his long, slender fingers nimble as they held the neck and bow of the instrument.  
“What did you think?”  
“Beautiful” he answered, they both smiled, before getting back to work.


End file.
